


Afterslip

by thisiswherethefishlives



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Earthquakes, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-31
Updated: 2015-07-31
Packaged: 2018-04-12 06:24:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4468652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisiswherethefishlives/pseuds/thisiswherethefishlives
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life as a part of Coulson’s SHIELD… well, it’s not what Fitz would have <i>ever</i> signed up for, but it’s quickly become his new normal. There’s something freeing in the reality that he never knows that the day will bring, something that zings down his spine to just realize that he’s already stared death in the face. The fact that he’s still here now, still alive… it all has to mean something. He refuses to accept that he’s survived everything that’s been thrown at him just to die now.</p><p>Leg pinned underneath the debris and fallout from the earthquake, Fitz can’t fight down the desperate, unstable giggles that climb their way up his throat and out through his lips, because of all the things - of all the bloody things that might put him out of his misery, it’s an earthquake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Afterslip

They trained for all kinds of things in the Academy. Years spent going over counter-terrorism drills, what to do with biohazards in a lab setting, how to handle biohazards _out_ of a lab setting. Fitz could go on for ages listing the various emergencies that they had been prepared for… of course, it’s not nearly as long as the list of horrors he’s been subjected to since joining Coulson’s team.

_Trapped at the bottom of the ocean?_

Yeah, when would training for THAT ever be useful?

_Need to handle the entire organization going tits up?!_

Pffft, as if.

_Communicating and containing a race of advanced humans with ties to an ancient alien race that longs to destroy all of Humanity?!!??!_

It reads more like bad fanfiction than anything else...

Life as a part of Coulson’s SHIELD… well, it’s not what Fitz would have _ever_ signed up for, but it’s quickly become his new normal. There’s something freeing in the reality that he never knows that the day will bring, something that zings down his spine to just realize that he’s already stared death in the face. The fact that he’s still here now, still alive… it all has to mean something. He refuses to accept that he’s survived everything that’s been thrown at him just to die now.

Leg pinned underneath the debris and fallout from the earthquake, Fitz can’t fight down the desperate, unstable giggles that climb their way up his throat and out through his lips, because of all the things - of all the bloody things that might put him out of his misery, it’s an earthquake.

A bloody earthquake.

He had _participated_ in those drills…

Everything goes black and fuzzy around the edges and it’s bullshit. He’s _livid_. He’s never been so angry in his life and none of this should be happening because he had pl-

* * *

He wakes up to a throbbing that’s managed to take over his entire left side, pain radiating from his ankle  in waves strong enough to have him gritting his teeth. Bracing himself, Fitz tries to sit up, but there’s a weight against his chest that has him panicking, lashing out with the kind of primal defense mechanism that only ever surfaces when death is knocking.

Later, perhaps he’ll liken it to the bouts of strength that mothers always seem to have when they lift cars from off their children, but for now he just hits solid warmth that doesn’t compute. There’s rubble everywhere, cold and unyielding, and it’s only now that he’s flailing that it registers in Fitz’s mind that what he’s resting on now is anything but. Still reacting blindly, he goes to flail again, only to have his wrists stilled before he can do any damage.

“C’mon, Turbo. Settle down, I don’t need any more bruises than what I’ve got, and I don’t need you hurting yourself more than you already are.”

The fight melts from Fitz’s arms, leaving him limp and confused, because maybe he got hit on the head. Mack wasn’t in the Playground when the earthquake hit… no, he should be halfway across the country by now with May and the rest of the team. He was supposed to be back on Monday, and then they were going to go on their date. He… he wasn’t supposed to be here.

“You’re not supposed to be here.”

The words are barely out of his mouth before he’s wincing, because Fitz knows the alternatives. He could be by himself. He could be alone… but that doesn’t mean the next best thing is for Mack to be trapped down here with him.

“Yeah, I know. Things went bad with the initial intel and we were heading back to regroup when we heard about the quake… I mean, I know that first dates are always awkward, but don’t you think staging a magnitude 6.9 quake to get out of it is a little much?”

He doesn’t mean to laugh at that, God knows there isn’t much to find funny in the moment, but it’s so ridiculous that Fitz can’t help but laugh. It’s not funny at all, but he’s giggling, and he can’t stop, and there are tears running down his face, and it’s hard to breathe, it’s so hard to breathe, and they’re going to d-

“Shhhhhhhhhhhhhh, c’mon, Fitz. C’mon, I just need you to breathe with me. Just breathe with me like we practiced before, it’s gonna be okay. Breathe in, two, three, four, five. Hold it, two, three, four, five, six, seven. Now out, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine. Again…”

They stay there, in the dim emergency lighting of the lab, breathing together until Fitz’s brain stops spinning and his breath evens out. He feels weak and exhausted, every inch of his body feels like it’s on fire, but Mack’s with him… Mack’s with him, and it’s the worst place for him to be right now, but Fitz isn’t alone.

“Can you get us out, Mack?”

He can hear how rough his voice is, how used and abused it is - as if the rubble had gone down his throat instead of on top of his leg. Fitz doesn’t need the luxury of the overhead lights to know that the outcome isn’t good. He can feel it in the way Mack’s body tenses underneath him, can hear it in the way Mack’s breath hitches. They’re stuck.

“Look, it’s gonna be okay. The team knows that I came down here looking for you, they’re gonna come get us, we just have to keep our cool, alright?”

Mack’s voice is warm, soothing, better than milk and honey before bed… if it was any other scenario it would help Fitz to settle down, to better center himself… but the emergency lights are flashing and his body is roiling with pain and it’s just the two of them. It’s just the two of them, and god only knows if the rest of the team will get to them in time. Perhaps the floor will collapse, or Fitz will go into shock… so many ways to die, and it’s so strange because it’s _normal_. It’s such a pedestrian way to die… it’s not how Fitz wants to _go_.

“Oh, no. Ohhhhh, no, Mack. I can’t die here like this. I can’t-”

The words get stuck in his mouth, refuse to push out, but the mantra continues in his head on loop.

“Hey, Turbo… I’m with you, okay? Always. Our history hasn’t been so great, but I need you to listen to me - I meant it before - no more lies. We’re gonna make it out of here, and I’m gonna take you on that first date, and it’s gonna be amazing. You and me… we’re gonna be amazing together, but we need to get through this first. You gotta trust me here… we’re getting out.”

With a trembling sigh, Fitz allows himself to relax back into the warmth of Mack’s chest. At this point, there’s nothing he can do aside from trust Mack… and despite everything between them, trusting Mack is the only thing that feels _right._

“Alright. I trust you, and I trust our team.” It feels like the right thing to say, but it feels too final. It feels like the kind of thing you say before a long silence, and that’s the last thing Fitz can deal with at the moment. Emergency lights flashing, he reaches a hand back, searching blindly until Mack takes the hint, linking their fingers firmly together. “Why don’t you tell me about this amazing first date you’ve got planned? It looks like we’ll be trapped for awhile, and I could use something to look forward to right about now.”

Mack’s fingers are warm and grounding where they’re wrapped tight with Fitz’s, and for just a moment Fitz allows himself to pretend that the lab isn’t literally falling apart around them. For a moment, it feels like he’s safe. He lets Mack’s words wash over him, lets them sink deep into his bones so that Mack’s very presence soothes the sharp ache that’s settled in.

* * *

Blinking against the flashing lights, Fitz wakes up with a splitting headache and the panicked realization that he is alone. The warmth of Mack’s body is gone, there’s no note, and for a split second Fitz has to wonder if he imagined Mack being with him at all… he’s done it before in times of need… with Jemma. It wouldn’t be the first time his broken mind created an escape for him, probably won’t be the last.

It had felt so real to have Mack with him - realer than any of the times he had interacted with his hallucinations before… yet here he is, alone.

He can feel the burn of unshed tears work its way from behind his eyes to settle down towards the bottom of his throat. It hurts so bad, worse than the physical pain of his leg, worse than the realization that he’s alone… he’s alone and he can’t trust his own mind.

Struggling to sit up, to gain leverage, his hands brush and cut upon the glass and rubble on the floor, but he’s able to right himself despite it. The lighting is horrible and his head’s fuzzy from the pain, but he’s alone and he needs to get out of here if he can… needs to get a message out so that the team knows where he is.

Eyes adjusting to the low light, he searches for anything he can use. Of course, he didn’t have his comm on him before the quake hit, wasn’t able to grab it in the midst of the room falling in around him. The landline to the lab… well, it might work, but there’s no way Fitz will be able to get his leg free to investigate.

Checking his pockets doesn’t yield anything useful - just some gum, a few pens, and the post-it note that Mack had left stuck to his door the other day… it’s romantic if otherwise useless, but it warms him nonetheless that it’s still on his person… that he still has a connection to Mack that’s real. Something he didn’t make up.

Smoothing the note out against his thigh, he can barely make out the handwriting in the dim lighting, but he had it basically memorized before anyways. Mack had left him a post-it note of promises… promises that Mack will make him happy, promises that Fitz won’t regret giving this a chance… tracing the words with the tip of a finger, Fitz allows the tears that have been building up to fall.

He’s alone.

He’s so, so alone.

* * *

He hears them coming a good thirty minutes before they show up. At first he’s terrified that it’s another trick of his mind - another coping mechanism - but then they’re there.

There’s Hunter, cracking jokes and giving him a hand or two to squeeze the life out of as his leg is extricated from the fallen beams and debris that had him trapped.

There’s May working in double time as she organizes the search efforts over her comm, words sharp and eyes seeking Fitz out more than once, like she’s afraid he’ll disappear if left alone for too long.

Of course, Jemma’s been stuck to him like glue since they found him, eyes round and wet and _so_ vulnerable. She’s shaking like a leaf, paler than that one time she jumped from the Bus, but she’s with him and she’s real, so he doesn’t point out the fact that _he’s_ the one that survived the earthquake, not her.

Logically, Fitz knows that they can’t risk the entire team descending into the Playground. They can’t risk being wiped out by an aftershock, can’t have everyone in one place, especially while they’re searching for survivors… but that doesn’t make Mack’s absence any less painful.

Post-it note crumpled in his fist, Fitz does his best to remember that whatever their relationship… whatever their plans may have been, the safety of the masses is more important than the safety of a single person… even if Mack _did_ have a date planned with that person. He keeps his resentment tamped down along with his fear and the all-encompassing horror that his hallucinations are back. He buries it all under his pain and his relief because he’s in the team’s good hands. He’s surrounded by friends and he’s going to be fine.

He’s in the middle of maneuvering himself onto the stretcher they brought with Hunter’s help when Skye runs into the room. She spares Fitz a glance before striding over to May, purpose in every step and a determined fierceness that Fitz hasn’t seen on her face before. She looks like she’s got the world on her shoulders and she knows exactly what to do with it.

It’s more than a little frightening, to be perfectly honest.

From where he’s struggling with the heavy weight of his leg, he can make out a few words, but nothing really sticks out as important until May’s barking orders into her comm.

“Alright, we found him. Skye’s got a team standing by, but we’re going to need all the backup we can spare. Anyone with medical training could really be used right about now.”

Jemma… well, she’s frozen in the moment, hands clenched and still where they had been carefully wrapping a compression bandage around his ankle. It’s unnerving to see her so still, but then she’s stepping back with the wrapping half done… and that _alone_ tells him that something’s wrong because Jemma doesn’t leave projects unfinished.

“Hunter,” she says over her shoulder as she walks towards where May and Skye are huddled together deep in discussion. “I need you to finish wrapping Fitz’s ankle - leave it nice and loose, you know what to do.”

With those instructions she’s gone, joining the huddle on the other side of the room before following Skye straight out of the room without a glance back to where Fitz is lying. It sets off warning bells in his head because Fitz has really only seem Jemma like this when the team has been in danger…

Cool fingertips bring Fitz back to his own situation, Hunter carefully working to finish winding the gauze around Fitz’s ankle. He performs the task like he’s done it a hundred times before, and honestly, considering his past as a mercenary… it’s not shocking. Hunter’s efficient and quick, and he’s got the job done in no time, rocking back onto his heels to look over his work before giving Fitz a firm pat on the shoulder.

It’s nice… but Hunter’s not cracking jokes anymore. No, instead he’s staring down at Fitz’s ankle in silence, and it’s pretty damn unnerving. Something’s wrong. Fitz is the last to know, and something is very, very wrong.

“What’s going on?”

Fitz can’t help the way his voice warbles on the last syllable, can’t help the way his anxiety has started to seep into the words leaving them brittle and ragged on his tongue. He also can’t help but notice how Hunter’s avoiding his eyes.

“Hunter, what aren’t you all telling me?”

“Look, mate… we didn’t want to worry you until there was something worth worrying about, alright? It’s just… we haven’t heard from Mack since he came down to find you.”

Fitz’s world goes cold and narrow at Hunter’s stilted words. From the pain that’s been flaring hot and heavy to the blood that’s been pumping through his veins loud enough to echo in his chest, it all goes still and frozen.

“Yeah, Coulson was holding the team back, what with the aftershocks, but Mack insisted on going in the second we touched down…” The panic’s still flooding through him, but Fitz manages to register the hurt that Hunter’s wearing across his face - there’s a weariness to his entire body that’s only accentuated when he rubs a hand over his temple. “Simmons is going to kill me for telling you any of this… but Mack would want you to know that he came looking. He couldn’t stand the idea of you being alone in this.”

Hunter’s words trail off into a silence too tense to be awkward. It’s more uncomfortable than anything else, and it’s only a few minutes before he’s clapping Fitz on the shoulder again before making his way towards May for further instructions... and it’s not alright because Fitz has questions.

Laying on the stretcher, Fitz closes his eyes against the gray of the rubble and the flashing of the lights, closes his eyes and does his best to breathe. He takes it slow, counting through patterns and sequences until he’s sure of his breathing - the last thing anyone needs is for him to have a panic attack right now, and he’s not about to make himself any more of a burden than he already is.

He breathes.

* * *

“Fitz… you can come see him now, if you want. He’s passed out… but I think he’d want you there anyway.”

Jemma looks worse for wear, exhaustion evident in her every movement, hair wild despite the way it’s been pulled back from her face. Wispy little curls stick to her temple and there’s a scratch high up on her cheek that wasn’t there before. She looks like crap, but in this moment she’s probably the most gorgeous thing Fitz has ever seen… because _Christ_ , he’d be lying  if he said he wasn’t half out of his mind with worry.

It would be impossible not to go a little crazy what with the complete and utter lack of information on Mack’s condition that he’s received since they made it back to one of the older SHIELD bases. There’s only so much you can do to distract yourself from worst-case scenarios when you’re wheelchair bound with a broken ankle and your possible maybe-boyfriend is under emergency treatment. Of course, it didn’t help that Hunter had fled the scene once Fitz was in the safety of the common room… not that Fitz had given Hunter much of a reason to stay, what with the way he had been antagonizing the merc mercilessly.

It’s not that Fitz _wanted_ to drive Hunter away… but he’s in pain. He’s been in pain for hours and he doesn’t know how Mack is - at this point, the options were to either give into the panic attack or to lash out at the closest person.

Not really a difficult decision.

Now, though? Now there’s a third option.

“Take me to see him. _Please_.”

With a quirked smile, Jemma shakes her head at him before striding towards the hallway.

“C’mon then, Fitz. Don’t think I’m about to wheel you to him - I can barely keep my eyes open as it is.”

There’s a barbed comment on the tip of Fitz’s tongue, but he swallows it before he says something he shouldn’t, maneuvering the wheelchair towards her instead. As much as he wants to snark or complain, Jemma looks dead on her feet… the building may have _literally_ come down around him, but he knows how much it can take out of a person to be working among the rubble. He knows that not everyone survived the earthquake, knows he was lucky… and he knows that she will have done everything in her power to save Mack.

The walk - or roll, rather - to the medical wing is quiet and tense, but Fitz doesn’t have it in himself to ask what had happened, and he knows better than to expect a conversation with Jemma when she’s this tired. All the same, it’s good to have her by his side.

It’s slow going and his arms are aching by the time Jemma points him towards an open door. If he were a braver man, she probably wouldn’t have noticed his hesitation to enter… but he’s never been terribly brave in scenarios like this. She reaches a tender hand to his shoulder, squeezing it gently before taking a step back.

“It’s alright, Fitz. He’ll be right as rain in no time, you’ll see. We were worried about internal bleeding, and I had to give him a sedative earlier… but he’s more than fine, considering.”

“Thanks, Jemma. You should go catch some rest. I’ll have Mack fill in the missing pieces when he wakes up, yeah?”

She shoots him a grateful smile before turning towards the living quarters, and in what feels like a blink of an eye, she’s gone.

Wheeling into the room, Fitz winces at the tread of the wheelchair beneath him. It hadn’t been obvious before, but the room is so quiet that even his breathing seems loud. Steering around the bed, he takes in the steady beat of the heart monitor, allows himself to revel in the rhythmic up and down of Mack’s chest. The relief that floods through him is steady and strong, and it leaves him feeling livid.

“You absolute bastard. I - I can’t believe the nerve of you, you thoughtless prick. The Playground fell down on me, Hunter’s an ass, my ankle’s been broken, and the only thing that I can focus on is the fact that I almost lost you. I almost _lost_ you, and you have the nerve to be asleep right now.”

Hands pressed into tight fists, Fitz can feel the tears starting to track down his face. He can’t help them though, can’t help them anymore than he can help the anger that’s building and the unshakable terror that’s wormed itself into his heart from the moment he realized he could be seeing things again.

“I am so _angry_ with you, Mack. I’m livid, and I hate you so much for not being awake right now… I’m furious at you. Absolutely, positively enraged… you asked me out! You asked me out on a _date_ , but now I’m in a wheelchair and god only knows what condition you’ll be in… you need to wake up. You need to wake up immediately so that I can yell at you properly.”

The tears are falling faster now and Mack doesn’t respond. The rational part of Fitz’s mind should be reminding him that Mack’s been sedated. It should be reining him back and making him kind and gracious and thankful to have them both alive… but then there’s that fear again that leaves him wild and fierce.

“You need to wake up, because I can’t do this without you… I can’t piece together what is real and what is in my head without you, and - and this entire time it’s like there’s this piece of me screaming out _PLEASE DON’T DO THIS AGAIN_ because I can’t… I can’t go around anymore seeing people that don’t exist. I just can’t anymore, and I’m angry, and I’m frightened, and I need you to be alright. Please wake up.”

Mack remains quiet in the bed, face serene as he sleeps, mouth slack and eyelashes fanned over his cheeks. He’s a beautiful man, but it all means nothing if he’s not laughing and teasing with Fitz.

Fueled by fear and pain and a desperate need to touch, Fitz lifts up from the chair, weight on his good leg as he half drags and half hops himself into the bed. Mack doesn’t stir, which only speaks to the strength of Jemma’s drugs, what with Fitz’s ridiculous struggle to get comfortable.

Eventually though, he settles down.

Gently, he lets his fingers trace over the velvet of Mack’s skin, dragging over his neck to feel his pulse before rising high enough to run over the curl of Mack’s eyelashes and the arch of his brows. It feels like they’ve wasted so much time, and Fitz curses himself softly for not giving in sooner. If he had accepted Mack’s interest as genuine… if he had gathered the courage to ask Mack out himself instead of waiting for Mack to do it… perhaps if things had been different Fitz wouldn’t be mapping out Mack’s features like this for the first time in a hospital bed.

“We haven’t even kissed, you bastard. We haven’t _started_.”

With a hand curled under Mack’s chin and sticky tear tracks still painting his cheeks, Fitz allows sleep to claim him. It’s a relief.

* * *

_There’s rubble surrounding him and there’s blood on his hands and he’s alone._

_He’s alone._

_He’s alone, but it’s Mack’s blood on his hands, but it’s not Mack - it’s not Mack because he’s not here._

_It’s not, it’s not, it’s not. There’s blood on his hands and he’s so -_

_He’s guilty. He’s wrong and he can’t stop staring at the  blood._

_So much blood,_

_so much that his hands are shaking under the weight and it’s too much._

_He can’t stop shaking, he can’t, he ca-_

* * *

Fitz wakes to an arm pulling him close and a throbbing ache in his ankle. Blinking against the light that’s streaming through the windows, he does his best to calm the desperate tripping of his heart.

It takes a moment to register that the arm around him belongs to Mack, but that simple realization calms Fitz more than any breathing exercise ever could… because he’s alive. Mack is alive, and he’s _warm_ , and he’s safe. Eyes still heavy with sleep, Fitz nuzzles closer to Mack, brings his hand to his chest to better feel the steady beat of Mack’s heart underneath.

“Don’t think this means that you can cut out on our date, Turbo.”

Mack’s breath is warm against Fitz’s temple, lips brushing against him as he speaks, and it’s perfect. Aside from the various bruises and wounds and the uncomfortable hospital bed, it’s absolutely perfect. Fitz takes a moment to soak in the fact that they’re alive before pulling back to meet Mack’s gaze.

“I’m not angry right now, but I will be. There will be a lot of yelling, just so you know, but that won’t mean _you_ get out of our date either. You gave me a scare… the least you can do is wine and dine me after I get it out of my system.”

“Yeah, yeah. Believe me, Simmons let me know how much trouble I’m in earlier… I was on a lot of drugs, but I think she said something about corporal punishment and penguins… though I think that last part was the drugs more than anything.”

Huffing back a laugh, Fitz reaches down until he finds Mack’s hand, twining their fingers together into something solid and real.

“You never know with Jemma, Mack. I’d be extra careful when you next find yourself at the aquarium - if anyone could turn a penguin into a weapon, it would be her.”

Mack’s gorgeous when he smiles, all soft lips and crinkles around his eyes. He’s stunning, and there’s a part of Fitz that wants to kiss him silly… but then he thinks about having their first kiss in a hospital bed, antiseptic heavy in the air and heart monitor bleating loudly. To say that it dampens the joyful mood, well, that would be an understatement. He squeezes his eyes closed against the uncertainty that’s come over him so suddenly, and Fitz would probably stay there forever - eyes closed and heart sad - if Mack didn’t speak.

“I’m sorry that I left you. I should have stayed with you when I found you, but my comm wasn’t working and you were fast asleep… I wanted to get you safe, but I just ended up with a whole list of injuries that I’m gonna need Simmons to go through with me in small, easy to understand words. I just... I’m sorry for leaving you there alone.”

Fitz’s heart cracks at that, the weight of his fears and anxieties suddenly too much in the face of Mack’s apology. The realization… it _aches_ in Fitz’s chest, because he knows now. He knows that he didn’t lose his mind down there in the lab, knows that he didn’t imagine Mack being there… Mack was real, and he’s alive, and there’s a heaviness in Fitz’s heart that feels a lot like love. He knows that he’s crying again, but he’s too caught up in the pain and the relief and the joy to care.

“Shit, Turbo, I didn’t mean to make it all worse. Shit… give me a second, let me find the button and I’ll page for a nurse to get Simmons. It’s gonna be alright, just let me-”

There are tears streaming down Fitz’s face, and there’s an ache in Fitz’s chest, and he’s in a terribly uncomfortable hospital bed with his ankle in a cast and his heart in his throat. Nothing about the situation is ideal, but he leans in to kiss Mack anyway, softly… carefully...

It’s electric.

Their second kiss is much the same, and even with the pain and the discomfort and the remaining panic that’s got Fitz on edge, it’s wonderful. It’s probably the best thing to ever happen to him, that second kiss, because it changes _everything._ It doesn’t matter anymore that they’re in a hospital bed, doesn’t matter that they almost died… everything about their surroundings, from the beeping machines to the sharp scent of rubbing alcohol mingled with cleaning solution - it all serves to ground Fitz in the moment. It’s real, and they survived, and really… if that’s not worth a kiss or two, Fitz can’t think of anything else that is.

Pulling back, he knows that he made the right choice - that he shouldn’t have waited for a better first kiss - there’s a stupid look on Mack’s face and a smile on Mack’s lips, and there’s a lightness in Fitz’s heart that hasn’t been there in a long time.

“I... I thought I made you up after the quake. I thought I was losing my mind again, and I was so scared. I was -”

Perhaps it’s fair that Mack cuts _him_ off this time with kiss number three. It’s desperate and soft all at once, and it sets Fitz’s skin tingling despite how chaste it really is, lips brushing and pressing and loving against each other like they’ve been doing it all their lives.

“I was real then, Turbo, and I’m real now. Even if I wasn’t, we’d get through it. No matter what, we’re gonna get through what’s thrown at us, I promise.”

Kiss four is soft and delicate, brushed against his lips like yet another promise for Fitz to squirrel away like a treasure. He’ll store it along with the post-it note still stored safely in his pocket and the affection he has for the beautiful man kissing him. Carefully, Fitz presses kiss number five to Mack’s cheek and number six to his chin, seven through twelve are peppered all over Mack’s face.

After all, Mack’s not the only one that can promise things.

* * *

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> Based off the prompt request: 7 -14 - 17 - 20 - 33
> 
> 7 - I almost lost you  
> 14 - Hey, I'm with you, okay? Always  
> 17 - Looks like we'll be trapped for awhile  
> 20 - You need to wake up because I can't do this without you  
> 33 - Please don't do this
> 
> This one got a little away from me, so I decided to post it as a standalone fic from my collection of prompt fills.


End file.
